


Just Desserts

by Kitsunebi_UK



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Domestic, Explicit Sexual Content, Food Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Intimacy, Kink, M/M, Mild Angst, Smut, St. Petersburg, canonverse, custard
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 21:18:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13326558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitsunebi_UK/pseuds/Kitsunebi_UK
Summary: When you’re a figure-skating coach and competitor at the same time, while making your comeback at age 28, life can be a little demanding, as Victor and Yuuri are discovering the hard way. But there’s a recipe for even the bitterest of days at the rink: a teaspoon of communication and a cup of comfort – brought to you by the sweetest fiancé in the world…





	Just Desserts

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for Day 2 of [domesticvictuuriweek](https://domesticvictuuriweek.tumblr.com) for the prompt “Food,” though you could say in some ways it covers the second prompt, “Care,” as well. A warm serving of kink to make amends for a bit of angst. _Bon appétit_.
> 
>  
> 
> _A quick note re the title. The correct spelling of the traditional saying is “just deserts.” (I was not aware of this myself until recently.) Which of course means to get what you deserve. As these two do – in a good way!_

“I just think you should’ve gone home, is all,” Victor muttered as he unlocked the door and strode into the apartment, dropping his sports bag on the floor and heading straight for the sofa, where he sank gratefully into a cloud of soft candy-striped pillows. Perfect for aching limbs. Makkachin bounded up to him and he gave her a quick hug, then ran his hand through her fur.

_Home…_ They’d been here together in St. Petersburg for just a handful of weeks, but it seemed natural to use that word with Yuuri now. Though at the moment his head hurt to think about it.

Yuuri followed, dropping his own bag alongside Victor’s, and stopped to stand in the middle of the floor. “I didn’t want to leave without you,” he said quietly. “Anyway, I got some extra practice in, so…”

“Which was not a good idea, considering you’d already been practicing all day as it was, Yuuri. Your work ethic is admirable, but you’ll end up with an injury if you’re not careful. I just had to get my own practice in, that’s all.”

“Victor, I – ”

He sighed. “I need to go have a shower. That OK?” He stood up from the sofa, feeling the strain in his calves.

“Yeah…OK. I’ll make dinner.”

Victor took his time under the pounding hot spray, a little of the tension bleeding out of his muscles. He toweled himself off, did a few stretches to limber back up, pulled on black slacks and his maroon Henley, blew his hair dry, and joined Yuuri in the kitchen, both of them with bare feet on the tiled floor. Somehow in a fairly short space of time, Yuuri had managed to rustle up oyakodon and a salad. He made his own dashi, which he kept in a large glass container in the refrigerator for such things: the magic ingredient that turned all the Japanese food he cooked into a divine phenomenon.

“Thanks, Yuuri – this is _vkusno_ ,” Victor said with a smile which Yuuri returned as they ate at the little table in the kitchen, Makkachin curled up on the floor between them waiting for a crumb to fall her way, which Victor accidentally-on-purpose always ensured. The meal passed mostly in silence. Victor was tossing around numbers. Timetables. What they both needed to practice before the next competition. Yuuri’s programs; his own…

His head in a whirl, he gathered their plates and cutlery when they were finished, put them in the sink, and got a carton of eggs from the cupboard, then removed a cookbook from a wooden stand where several were stored, and opened it on the counter. He’d decided earlier in the day that he’d try to relax at home by baking a Parisian custard flan; cooking such things from scratch, as he’d begun to do on occasion once he’d gotten a place of his own, had become something of a hobby – a rewarding one, because you could eat the fruits of your labors, literally as well as metaphorically. Well, this had been the plan for tonight; though truth be told, it seemed a daunting task after everything else today. He’d promised it to Yuuri as a treat, though; and maybe it would take his own mind off things for a while.

“Victor, do you want to leave the flan for another time?” Yuuri suggested. He was still sitting at the table, watching as Victor pulled out a pie tin, a nonstick pot, a large wooden spoon, and various other accoutrements. “It’s kind of late, don’t you think? How about joining me on the sofa?”

“Oh, I…well, maybe later. I thought this might help me unwind.”

“There are lots of ways to unwind,” Yuuri said in a low teasing voice.

Victor turned to him briefly with a flicker of a grin. “I wanted to do this for you. I guess it’d also help if I could…just get my head together, too. With something quiet. It’s been a long day.”

He turned back to the counter, cracking eggs and separating the yolks into a bowl. There was no reply from Yuuri. The _ding_ of the whisk against the glass was unnaturally loud in the silence. Then a chair scraped back.

“I’m going to have a shower,” Yuuri said.

Victor just nodded, intent on his task. Footsteps padded into the bedroom, and he heard the shower turn on.

There was a churning feeling in the bottom of his stomach that had nothing to do with Yuuri’s beautiful oyakodon, or the anticipation of custard tart for dessert. Since when had conversation with the man he loved become so perfunctory, so terse? When had the prospect of cuddling with him on the sofa lost its instant appeal? Victor blinked against eyes that felt red-rimmed and paused to put out some proper dog food for Makkachin, which she was obviously ready and grateful for; then he threw the ingredients together for the flan crust, pressing the dough into the bottom of the pie tin.

This wasn’t what he’d had in mind, he thought. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. But he was too tired to try to tease out the whys and wherefores, and mechanically poured the egg and milk mixture from the bowl into the double boiler. By the time he heard the shower switch off, he was stirring a pale, creamy mixture that steamed gently with a buttery vanilla aroma.

Yuuri joined him, wearing his usual black tracksuit pants and a plain dark teal T-shirt. He leaned over the boiler and breathed in, then made a little hum. “That smells _wonderful_ , Victor.”

Victor just flashed him another smile, then glanced down at the recipe in the cookbook. There was a stretch of silence.

“Talk to me,” came Yuuri’s voice.

“Hm?” Victor turned his head to look at him.

“Victor. You’ve been so quiet…you’ve hardly said anything since we left the rink.”

“Oh.” He stirred the custard a little faster. “I’m sorry. A lot on my mind, I guess.”

“You can’t share it with me?”

He shrugged. “What’s to share? Schedules. Skating scores. Jump timings. Coach things. I wouldn’t have thought it’d be very interesting to talk about.”

“There are circles under your eyes, too.”

Victor glanced at the ceiling and sighed. “What else is wrong with me, then? How long is this list?”

“You’re not yourself,” Yuuri said, his voice hitching slightly. “Can’t you see? You’re not getting much sleep. You’re so tired sometimes you can barely stand up. I can’t remember the last time you laughed – really laughed – and sounded happy.”

Victor stilled the spoon and turned to him, irritation bubbling up inside. “I’m sorry,” he snapped. “I’ll try to do better.” Then he focused his attention on the custard again, though it might as well have been tar, for all the appeal it suddenly had.

He sensed, more than saw out of the corner of his eye, Yuuri stepping back. “This is my fault,” he said so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Victor turned his head and saw pain in those large brown eyes. Pain that he was responsible for putting there. “What do you mean?” he said, more as a defensive afterthought, because if he could summon the courage to look further down, he would know. It floated there, nudging at his consciousness, as it had been doing for a while now.

“I was selfish, pushing you to be my coach and to make a comeback at the same time. I should’ve known it’d be too much for you.”

“It’s _not_ too much.” Stir, stir. “I told you, I could handle it.”

“You spend hours coaching me, and then you have your own practice to do. You warn _me_ not to overwork myself, but that’s exactly what you’re doing.”

“I _told_ you, Yuuri – I promised I’d make this work for us both.” Stir. “I’m Victor Nikiforov, after all.”

“Victor Nikiforov is a human being. We all have limits.”

“Well, I haven’t reached mine yet.”

“You have. You’re exhausted.”

Victor put the spoon down rather forcefully on the wooden cutting board, spraying drops of custard. That voice, so soft yet so insistent. “There’s no alternative, Yuuri. I…I want to make this work. I _have_ to make this work. We agreed it was what we were going to do.”

Yuuri’s eyes were brightening with unshed tears, and Victor felt an answering prick in his own. “I just want _you_ ,” Yuuri said. “The funny, sweet, supportive…exuberant person I know.”

Victor’s brow wrinkled. “Are you saying I haven’t been supportive?”

“You’re turning into a husk of yourself, Victor. Can’t you see what’s happening? I…I miss you, even though you’re standing right here in front of me.” He sniffed.

“Oh, Yuuri, I…” Victor swallowed, unsure of what to say. When he put it like that, there was no denying he was right. The truth was he hadn’t wanted to admit it to himself, because it meant having to face the possible consequences. Yuuri deciding to retire after all; maybe even leaving. It was the sort of thing he’d do, in some misguided act of self-sacrifice for what he believed was Victor’s own good. Given all that, maybe he just had to persevere; find the extra strength he needed to –

“I want to try spending more time with Yakov,” Yuuri said. His voice was firm, though his eyes were pleading.

Victor absorbed this, then shook his head. “But I’m your coach, Yuuri. Not him.”

“I already spend some time with him anyway,” Yuuri said in a rush; and Victor saw this was something he’d been meaning to say before now, perhaps looking for the right time. “I don’t mind spending more. He’s a good coach. Not – not that you aren’t. But you can’t do everything, and you’ve got to have time to fit your practice in.”

It felt to Victor like someone had kicked him in the gut. _Failure,_ they said while doing it. “That’s not how this was supposed to work, Yuuri. I…” A tear trickled down a cheek and he swiped it away. “…I’d feel like I was letting you down. After everything we went through together last season…”

Yuuri placed a hand on his arm, warm and gentle. “And I was so much stronger for it, Victor. We can still do those things together; you’re still my coach. But...if you carry on as you are, you’re not going to succeed with that _or_ your comeback, and it’ll be all my fault. I can see what it’s doing to you.”

Victor sighed and picked the spoon back up, gave the custard a final stir, and removed it from the heat. “I thought you needed me,” he muttered.

“That’s just it, Victor. I need _you_. Here, now. In my life. Not just as my coach, but as…my fiancé. My friend. I just want you to be happy.”

Victor looked into his eyes with a small smile. “I want the same for you.”

“That’s good, then,” Yuuri said with a little huff. “I…I hope you don’t mind, but I already mentioned the idea to Yakov. Though I was going to talk to you before anything was finalized. I’d like to book that extra time with him – say, over a couple of weeks, for a start? And see how it goes. Besides,” he added, his voice taking on more of a suave tone, “I’m not doing too bad, am I? Silver at the Grand Prix final. Gold at nationals. Silver at Four Continents, just behind Phichit. Just wait and see what I do at the Olympics, when I decide to really come out of warm-up mode.” He laughed, and Victor couldn’t help but do the same.

“We’ve got plenty of talent chasing us, though,” Victor said. “Yurio. JJ. No room for complacency.”

“You and me? We’ll leave them in the dust.”

Victor chuckled. He hadn’t wanted to agree, but if Yuuri were honestly willing? Maybe, in time, he could learn to get over the disappointment of not being everything he’d wanted to be for him. Maybe, in fact, that had been an impossible expectation in the first place.

“I…suppose we could give your idea a try,” he said. “If that’s really what you want to do. I never would have suggested it myself – ”

“I know.” Yuuri’s hand was still on his arm. He gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. I do appreciate how hard you’ve been trying…with everything. I love you, Vitya.”

Victor cupped Yuuri’s cheek. “I love you too, _zolotse._ And…I’m sorry for being such a pain in the ass. Even _I_ wouldn’t want to live with me sometimes.”

Yuuri huffed another laugh and looked up at him with sparkling eyes, which dropped back down to the custard. “You ought to do whatever you need to do with that before it curdles or something. Does it curdle? The Japanese don’t eat milky things very often; there’s a dessert called purin, but it sets, and you pour caramel over the top.”

“Have you ever tried warm homemade custard?”

Yuuri shook his head.

“Well, this is supposed to be poured into the pie tin and baked, but it ought to taste lovely just as it is, too. I even infused the milk with a vanilla pod and scraped the beans into it, then let it steep all day. Here.” He got a dessert spoon from the drawer next to him. But first he dipped a pinkie finger into the custard to test the temperature. Warm but not hot, so no scalding tongue or mouth at least. Yuuri was following his movements with an amused look. Victor scooped some custard onto the spoon, lifted it, and brought it toward Yuuri’s mouth. He opened it and then clamped his lips around the spoon. Victor pulled it back out. That was…novel. He couldn’t recall having done that to anyone before.

Yuuri closed his eyes, silent for a moment, deciding. When they opened, there was a glint in them that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “ _Vkusno_ ,” he breathed. “I don’t know how something so simple could taste so good. It’s rich and delicate and…delicious.”

Victor felt his heart flutter at the praise. “Thank you.”

“Have you tried it yourself?”

“No, I…um, got distracted.”

“Here.” Yuuri scooped more custard onto the spoon and slowly guided it toward Victor’s mouth. That look in his eyes…Victor knew it well. It was the look he flashed him at the beginning of his _Eros_ skating routine. And suddenly an electric shiver coursed down his spine to his groin, where it heated and tingled. The intensity of his reaction surprised him. They were only sharing some food, after all.

“Beautiful,” Victor said, though as he gazed at Yuuri, he made it clear that he was talking about more than the custard.

Yuuri put the spoon down, circled his arms around Victor’s neck, his fingers teasing at the short hairs at the nape, and closed the distance between them, tilting his head up for a kiss. Victor wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s back, pulling the hard muscled warmth of him tight, asking himself why in the world he’d been denying himself – both of them – this, when they could’ve been doing it every minute of the day when they weren’t skating, no matter how tired he was.

He licked into Yuuri’s mouth and they both moaned as their tongues slowly caressed. Sweet vanilla, like melted ice cream. Victor raked fingers through the soft brown hair at the back of Yuuri’s head, clutching with his other hand, making little puffs of breath between kisses. “Don’t ever let me be like that to you again,” he said, his voice hoarse and soft as he broke away to nuzzle at Yuuri’s cheek. “Don’t let me forget what – who – the most important thing in the world is to me. I was such an idiot.”

“Victor,” Yuuri sighed. Then a determined look flashed in his eyes, and _Eros_ was back full force, it seemed. “You’re always trying to take care of me. Let me take care of _you_ for once. Is that OK?”

Victor let out a breath at the promise in Yuuri’s voice, and nodded silently.

Yuuri lifted the bottom of Victor’s shirt, and soon that was discarded on the counter. Then he did the same with his own shirt, holding Victor’s eyes with a smoldering gaze all the while. He continued, with Victor’s help, until they were both completely nude. Apart from taking their clothes off, they’d barely touched each other, though Victor had felt himself growing hard in sheer anticipation of whatever Yuuri was planning.

When Yuuri picked up the pot of custard and the wooden spoon, Victor’s eyes went wide and he gasped. _You’ve got to be joking._ There was a questioning look on Yuuri’s face as he stood poised for a moment, obviously waiting for consent. _You’re not joking._

He’d never done _this_ before, either. If _this_ was what he thought it was.

Well. He liked surprises, didn’t he?

He nodded again, a grin quirking at the corners of his mouth. 

With a mischievous gleam in his eyes, Yuuri held the custard pot with one hand, took the spoon in the other, buried it in the mixture and then lifted it, holding it just above Victor’s shoulder and allowing a trail to drizzle down his skin. It was warm, just a little more than body heat; and as Yuuri poured several more spoonfuls over that shoulder and then the other, he discovered there was something curiously sensual about the feel of it, the thickened liquid clinging on its way down, its wake just a shade paler than Victor himself.

He was teetering on a point between laughing uproariously and moaning in pleasure, when Yuuri tipped the balance by putting the pot and spoon back down on the counter and giving him a last heated look before grabbing hold of his shoulders, his fingers kneading the skin there as they slid over the custard, and then lowering his head to take long, lascivious licks at his chest, his eyes closed, humming or moaning or something in between.

“Holy shit,” Victor breathed as Yuuri’s tongue slicked over his coated chest and circled around a nipple. The very sight of him, with custard now clinging to his cheeks and around his mouth, was _obscene._ Victor felt himself trembling as he clapped a hand to the back of Yuuri’s head and buried his fingers in his hair. It felt like he’d gone from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds. “Fuck…Yuuri…” he gasped, unable to believe how such a ridiculous situation could be so hot at the same time.

“Vitya…you taste amazing,” Yuuri mouthed against him, and then let out a laugh even as he licked.

“Jesus Christ,” Victor groaned.

Yuuri worked his way down, hands gliding, fingers flexing, mouth exploring. But then he suddenly stood back up, wiping most of the custard from his face with the back of his arm, and came in for a blistering kiss, pressing Victor against the counter. The custard had run all the way down to his thighs and Yuuri hadn’t removed it entirely, the remainder facilitating a smooth, slippery slide. Yuuri thrust up against him; you couldn’t really call it grinding, because there wasn’t enough friction, but it enabled a sinful tangle of writhing limbs, Victor giving as good as he got as he curled and slicked and thrust back. They were soon both gasping for breath, their kisses abandoned.

Again, however, Yuuri pulled away with that positively devilish look, and said in a low voice that was almost a growl, “Whatever I do, don’t come until I say you can.” Victor loved it when he took control like this, and Yuuri was gradually becoming more comfortable with it. At the moment, however, he didn’t know how much more he could take, which would make the request difficult to obey. Still, he nodded, wondering what he’d ever done to deserve this incredible man who was, right now, slowly but surely driving him wild.

Yuuri picked up the custard pot again, and this time without pause poured it straight over Victor’s abdomen. He watched Yuuri return the pot to the counter and kneel in front of him, bending his head in to lave at his abdomen, smoothing his hands over custard-coated hips and thighs. The liquid had cooled slightly, and was thicker now. Victor could see it clinging to his aching cock, like some kind of lewd candy-coated confection. Yuuri had been avoiding it, but then with one dive of his head licked a stripe up the underside, sucking at the custard, which covered his tongue and lips. Victor’s thighs shook and his chest tightened, his breaths coming in short, quick heaves as Yuuri continued his ministrations, making popping noises and hums. He was sure he’d never seen anything so wickedly sexy in his entire life.

“I’m close,” he choked out.

“Not yet,” Yuuri paused to say. He pumped Victor’s cock with one hand while he crouched down further and kneaded and tugged at his balls, then took one and then the other gently in his mouth. Victor tilted his head back and cried out, clutching at Yuuri’s head again, trying desperately not to come.

_“Please...Yuuri,”_ he moaned, the struggle verging on pain, hazing his mind with red heat.

“Not yet.” Yuuri straightened, still on his knees, reached for the custard pot, poured more over Victor’s cock, and bobbed and sucked with a determination Victor had only ever seen before when he was on the ice. And that brought the image of Yuuri in his _Eros_ costume, winking and twisting and flirting, rocketing to the fore.

_“Yuuri.”_ Now reaching back to dig his fingers against the counter, Victor could barely speak the word. It was going to happen as surely as the tide washed in. He was helpless to resist any longer.

Yuuri looked up at him, custard still clinging to his jaw, his hand working Victor’s cock. His eyes were liquid heat. “Come for me, Vitya,” he gave the soft command.

The relief was instant and exquisite. Victor’s mouth opened in a silent scream as his orgasm quaked and burned through him. Dimly he felt Yuuri’s lips at the tip of his cock. It could have been seconds or minutes as he rode the crest of the wave and then rippled back down, sweating and panting like he’d been sprinting for a finish line.

Sex with Yuuri had always been wonderful. Being close like that to the man he loved always was. But this…this was something brand-new. Just waiting to be explored. Tantalizing; exciting. He hoped Yuuri felt the same.

Yuuri stood and gave him a slow, deep, lingering kiss, sticky fingers against his cheeks. “Wow,” he breathed against Victor’s lips.

“Yeah…wow. God, Yuuri.”

Yuuri just giggled. He knew. Victor had hardly hidden any of his reactions.

“Let’s take care of you now,” Victor said, stroking a hand up and down his back.

“Maybe…in the shower?” Yuuri suggested with a smile. “I think we’ve just about run out of custard, between you and me and the floor.”

“I ought to get Makkachin in here to – ”  

“ _Victor._ That is _not_ how you clean a kitchen.”

Victor snickered.

“I ruined your flan. You’ll have to make more custard.”

“Yuuri, I’ll happily make custard at any time of the day or night you request it. From now on, I will be the custard king. Wait and see.”

Yuuri laughed and kissed his nose, then took his hand and led him to the shower.

**Author's Note:**

> I love chatting with fellow writers and YOI fans. Find me on Tumblr [here](https://kitsunebi-uk.tumblr.com/).


End file.
